Author's Note

Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!

PS I'm not JK Rowling, so I don't own anything :(

Chapter 9: Distance and Potions

October-December 1995

Grimmauld Place

Hermione did not release her hold on Remus the next time they came up for air, and neither did he. Her fingers were woven so deeply into his barely greying hair she'd need a crowbar to separate them. His grip on her hips was equally possessive. A permanent joining of two parts into one.

"What about Teddy?" Hermione moaned, burying her face against his neck. She didn't want to see his face if he took back his previous words. But simply mentioning the boy's name had her heart aching to see him again. The more she came to care for Remus, the more she cared for the son he'd one day have.

"Do we have time to come up with a plan?" he asked hoarsely, pressing a kiss to her exposed cheek, ragged breaths fanning over her skin with gentle heat.

"A year and so some change, yes," she agreed. Perhaps it would be best to focus on the more pressing, immediate concerns and leave that for later. Certainly less stressful given all her other worries. Her list of tasks never ending.

She'd still not been able to come up with a suitable means of saving Sirius while letting Harry believe he died. And Harry needed to believe that he had. That loss had served as motivation, powerful motivation to not give up, to keep fighting, when he'd needed it most.

"Then we'll sort that out when the time comes," he suggested, unconsciously giving voice to her thoughts.

Hermione nodded, tipping her face back to see him. Remus stared at her with a kind of wonder. As though she were a precious treasure. His fingers rose, grazing the contours of her face before cradling the back of her head and kissing her again.

It may have started off slow, a savoring of a fine wine, a sensuous brush of velvet over skin. Lush and exotic. But it quickly morphed. Hands roamed, tracing hard planes of solid muscle. There was so much strength coiled beneath her hands, only barely contained below the surface. Remus was raw sexuality with a touch of wildness carefully hidden within. Hermione wanted to feel more, to see what she'd only ever guessed was concealed beneath the ill-fitting robes.

When his fingertips grazed the curve of her breast, she moaned, arching into him, desperate for more contact.

Except the opposite happened. Remus broke off with a tortured groan, letting his forehead fall to rest against hers.

"I have to get going. I'm late as it is, but I had to talk to you first," he said forlornly. His regret in that instant a naked blade piercing straight through her heart, sharp and fast.

"Late? For what?" Hermione inquired, almost unconsciously digging her fingers into his shoulders as though to hold him to her. The pulse in his throat flicked, strong and fast, racing from their adrenaline-filled embrace.

"You don't know?" he asked, surprised.

He used the tip of his nose to brush along her own as he waited for her to admit, "No. I truly don't know what the Order got up to this year apart from guarding the prophecy."

"Albus has asked me to infiltrate one of the local werewolf packs. To see if I can get some of the others to side with us against Voldemort, or at least not openly fight on his side," he said flatly, not letting any of his true feelings show.

Hermione didn't like it. Mostly because she knew how much he'd struggle with it. She'd met a number of werewolves that traveled in packs during her reform work. They were the ones that society, and for many, their friends and family, had turned their backs on. Remus was very different in many ways because he'd had support, and been able to continue a relatively normal life. Most were not as fortunate.

It was because those affected were ousted from society that the worst happened to them, and they did experience more notable changes that individuals bitten didn't experience if they resumed their previous lives. Remus and Bill were prime examples. But fear prevented that from happening far too often, and the result only served to inspire more fear in most of the wizarding world.

A vicious cycle.

Once separated from the lives they once knew, there were subtle shifts in behavior. Higher levels of aggression and violence. Shorter tempers. When multiple werewolves cohabitated and resided as a pack rather than as witches or wizards, they had the potential to become very nearly feral after a while.

Oftentimes, there'd be fighting amongst themselves. For dominance - a pecking order - much as real wolf packs had. Strength was a prized feature, and Hermione had just felt for herself precisely how strong Remus was, despite his efforts to hide it. They were also fiercely loyal and distrustful of outsiders. It would take Remus a great deal of time and energy to win them over, and he'd probably have to completely submerge himself in their ways to win their trust.

And the longer they stayed together in packs, with the altered mentality, the more their wolf side took over, superimposing the animalistic qualities onto the human they were the majority of the time.

It was why Fenrir Greyback behaved as he did. He'd been a young child when bitten. Maybe five from the accounts she'd uncovered. Then his parents had turned him out, seeking to distance themselves from any association with a 'tainted' child. A pack had taken him in and raised him. He'd grown up knowing no other life.

When his pack had needed money, they'd acted as mercenaries for hire. If someone desired revenge or a means of truly punishing an enemy, they'd hire the pack to attack on the full moon. Greyback, warped by his own childhood experiences, had taken it a step further by always seeking to turn the targets' children rather than go after them directly. He knew from first-hand experience how much more devastating a blow that was when dealt.

Greyback had vanished after the war, successfully evading the retribution many sought to deliver for his crimes over the years. Harry had spent months searching before finally acknowledging that he'd most likely fled Britain altogether. For a while, Harry had been hell bent on making Greyback suffer for his part in the ordeal Hermione endured at Malfoy Manor.

It was an event she still couldn't bring herself to consciously think about. Her dreams were a different matter entirely.

"You truly understand, don't you?" Remus asked, wonderingly. He'd been studying her, watching as she absorbed what this turn of events meant. He clarified, "All that this will entail for both me and us."

"Yes," Hermione agreed calmly.

Remus seemed startled when she pulled him close to kiss him once more. Capturing his lips and branding them with her own. It was a claim, and one that made it clear she desired all of him, even the parts of himself he hated and couldn't bear to examine too closely. It was a truth as immutable as stone.

Hope radiated outward from him, bright as a breaking dawn when they broke apart, and she realized he'd been understandably concerned that she'd reject him once she learned of the course he was about to embark on. It was a conditioned response for him, much as it galled her to recognize.

"Remus," she breathed, softly touching his cheek. There were so many things she longed to say, but the events of the last hour stole her words.

"I almost didn't ask you about Teddy, worried this would change things. That it would make me less to you," he admitted frankly, seeming determined to be open with her. "I worried you'd say it was more than him. Or that knowing what I was about to do, you'd change your mind."

"I'm not. It doesn't change anything. Not at all," Hermione vowed, shaking her head as she denied the possibility.

"I should have had more faith in you," he acknowledged, again gazing upon her as though she were some miraculous creature he'd long sought, and only just discovered was real. The way he looked at her was a rush, making her feel both beautiful and invincible.

"You have a lifetime of people failing you to overcome. I understand it can't happen overnight," she said, rationalizing his fears and verbalizing the allowance. Hopefully, by discussing these issues openly, they'd be able to move past them, and not let them stand in their way in the future. "But…"

"What is it?" he asked, concern making the skin around his eyes tight. He seemed to be steeling himself for whatever she was about to say.

"I'll miss you," she whispered.

Part of her had wanted to admit that she was worried for him, knowing the toll this would take on him after a lifetime of rejecting that part of himself. But she also knew he was a soldier in Dumbledore's army, and he could take care of himself. There was no need to put that on him. Besides, he no doubt knew it already, and saying it would only make him feel bad.

"Don't worry. Albus wants me checking in each week, so I'll still be around," he promised. He hesitated, swallowing and grimacing before he added, "But I won't be needing Wolfsbane for at least a few months."

Once a week. It was better than nothing.

And she wasn't surprised about the potion. The others probably couldn't afford any even if they did desire to take it. Remus needed to fit in, and it would go against pack ways to lord something like that over the rest of them, or do something that went against embracing what they were or bucking the system.

"Should you win any over, and they wish for things to be different, let them know I'll provide it. No strings or fees," Hermione offered. It was the only other support she could extend, in addition to the knowledge that she'd be waiting for him - no matter what.

With a final press of his lips, a hard brush that poured a piece of his soul into her for safe keeping, and a look that swept her with the heat of a lover's attention, Remus said farewell. His actions speaking the words neither could manage just then.

Hermione was still seated at the kitchen table, absently touching her lips when Sirius joined her an hour later. Never had the simple act of a kiss so thoroughly undone her. No wonder Lavender and Parvati were always gossiping about boys, acting ridiculous to attract attention, and wasting their time dating during their Hogwarts years.

No book had been as wonderfully consuming and engaging. Just thinking about the feelings and reactions he'd evoked in her left her giddy. And she had no desire to do anything more productive than relive their time together again and again.

"You know, one of these days the two of you are going to have to get a room, or learn how to lock a door. I'm getting a bit tired of walking in on things I shouldn't see," Sirius teased, looking happier than he had since the day Harry arrived.

"You told him," Hermione said bluntly.

"Had to," Sirius said, completely unrepentant as he shrugged.

"Thank you," Hermione said sincerely, reaching across the table to take her friend's hand. Nothing had ever felt so right as when she'd been in Remus's arms, and she had Sirius to thank for making it happen.

"I saw that it went well," he said, giving her an opening to discuss things should she need it.

Hermione decided to again ignore the implication that Sirius had walked in on them, and they'd both been too wrapped up in the other to notice, and instead say, "Yes, but…"

Words failed her. All she could do was picture Teddy's smiling face in her mind. The young man she adored.

"But?"

It took several minutes before she could force the words out past the lump in her throat. Lump? More like shards of glass shedding her throat until blood pooled thick and hot in her chest. "Teddy. I don't see how -"

"So he has to sleep with someone else once - with the aid of some potions that's all it should take. Would that really break what you two are forming?"

Hermione blinked. Remus only needed to sleep with Tonks once to conceive Teddy. Sirius was right. There were potions that were nearly infallible in helping a witch get pregnant. If not, the Pureblood lines would have died out decades, possibly centuries, ago. It was an idea she'd not considered before. Tonks only needed to get pregnant. She and Remus didn't need to fall in love for that to happen. Muggles did it all the time.

Could she handle that? Knowing he slept with someone else just for the sake of creating a child. Would he even be willing after the two of them had been together for a couple years? Assuming things worked out between them, of course. And she couldn't imagine they wouldn't, not after earlier. They were so much more compatible than she'd been with anyone else.

And what about Tonks? Could she be talked into going along with such an insane plan? She'd been in love with Remus before. She'd desperately wanted to have his child. Would it be different if they weren't together?

"I'd not considered it quite like that, but if it meant Teddy would still exist, then no, it wouldn't destroy us," Hermione said when she realized Sirius was waiting expectantly for an answer. It was easy to simply focus on her part of the equation. The rest would have to come in time.

"I figured. If not, I'd not have told him," Sirius said smugly. "Though I bet you're secretly wishing artificial insemination worked right about now, yeah?"

"I'd read that, but I didn't know for sure," Hermione murmured, intrigued.

"Oh, it works. But the resulting child is always a squib," Sirius revealed tonelessly. Teddy definitely hadn't been a squib. He'd been a metamorphmagus just like his mum, and a Hufflepuff to boot, but everything else about him had been Remus in miniature. "Something about our magic gets messed up in the process. It was a big deal back when I was younger and it started becoming a popular practice among Muggles, but it was hushed up. Voldemort took advantage of the results when he was first rising to power - the dangers of mimicking Muggle ways, and how it was proof that they were the destruction of our kind, or something like that," Sirius finished explaining, sparking her interest even more.

It was a topic she'd only found referenced in the history books, but never explained in detail. The idea of Voldemort twisting the situation until it served his purpose made a perverse sort of sense though. That was the sort of thing he was known for doing, and yet simple-minded people still bought into it - despite how illogical it was.

"The children -"

"All dead, I think. They were some of the Death Eaters' first targets in the First War. Evidence of a shame on our ancient bloodlines that had to be eliminated. Remus knows a bit more about it. I think his cousin was one of the kids, but he's never really talked about it."

She'd have to ask for more information the next time she saw him. A week. It seemed like forever.

"I'm glad you two worked things out," she said, realizing the tension between them had dissipated since their fight the month prior.

"Now if only I could do the same with Harry," he muttered.

Hermione had a flash of memory. Hedwig had been hurt delivering a message to Harry from Sirius about visiting him again in the Gryffindor common room Floo. Umbridge had almost caught him, but the two had at least gotten a chance to talk first. That had happened around this time, hadn't it?

"You Flooed him before. Why not do it again?" Hermione said casually, much to Sirius's shock.

He stared at her as though she'd grown a second head for daring to suggest he do something so reckless when she was usually the voice of reason or the one channeling Molly's near constant disapproval of everything Sirius did.

"You think?" he asked hopefully, standing from the table. He hesitated, then appearing almost lost and rather unsure, murmured, "Yeah. Yeah, maybe I'll do that. I… maybe... "

"Hedwig is still upstairs," Hermione added. "You could owl him first to expect you."

She watched him leave the room. The memory was clearer now. He'd contacted Harry the Monday after their Hogsmeade weekend. Guess it'd take a day or two for Sirius to gather his courage to face Harry and project a confident air when they spoke.

That first week, fear for Remus was a vice grip around her heart. It hadn't helped that Sirius had glared at her on and off whenever he thought about how he'd almost been caught in the Floo. Fear of returning to Azkaban seemed to have finally sunk in and made him realize he was stuck inside Grimmauld Place. He didn't precisely blame her for not warning him, but he wasn't happy with her about it either.

On the fifth day, Hermione had received a short letter from Remus.

H,

I'm safe, so stop worrying.

Yours,

R

She'd laughed when reading it, appreciating how predictable she'd been and his ability to make her smile and relax with just a few simple words.

He'd arrived the next morning, and after delivering a report to Mad-Eye, Kingsley, and Minerva, who was standing in for Albus while he was busy at the school, he'd sought her out in the library.

"How is it?" she asked immediately, moving easily into his waiting arms. He smelled like the outdoors, woodsy and clean, like freshly fallen snow, with a touch of sandalwood.

"Better than I expected," he said slowly, musing to himself as he spoke. "They're different than I thought."

"You've never really spent much time with other werewolves, have you?" she asked curiously, always eager to hear more about his life.

He'd not mentioned ever doing so when they'd spent all that time talking during her first few weeks here, but he had not shared much about his time after James and Lily were killed and Sirius was arrested. Mostly, he'd said he kept to himself for a number of years and taken odds jobs in the Muggle world once the laws restricting his freedoms in the wizarding world were passed.

"No. Not even during the last war. Albus tried to have me infiltrate the packs then, but they were firmly allied with Voldemort, and after a sound thrashing upon arriving, they refused to speak to me at all," he said bitterly, anger at how things had gone before ringing through. Sirius was the same way when he spoke of the First Wizarding War.

Hermione couldn't imagine what that had been like. She'd had it bad enough, being in the thick of it, and it had only really lasted two years. The first war had gone on for eleven. And Voldemort had had a much stronger foothold the first time around.

"What's different this time?" Hermione asked, wondering what had changed so drastically for the packs even as she shivered beneath his questing hands.

Werewolves were still treated every bit as poorly by the vast majority of wizarding society. Denied basic rights and freedoms that limited their potential and standard of living. Perhaps even more so recently, ever since Umbridge was promoted at the Ministry.

Absently, Remus's fingers played with a strand of her honey curls. Tingles erupted across her scalp as he twirled the lock around his finger as he spoke, voice raspy and soft. "Harry. They know Voldemort was defeated by a baby before. And Harry has Albus on his side, so Voldemort isn't the safe bet anymore. Werewolves value strength and dominance, and Voldemort doesn't have either on his side anymore."

"Because he's forced to remain hidden in the shadows, working behind the scenes since the Ministry is pretending he hasn't returned," Hermione said, seeing the direction he was headed.

"Exactly," Remus said, chuckling a little at her quick understanding. "That's actually working in our favor in this aspect, if not others."

"Voldemort may be trying to gain allies, but his means of doing so right now doesn't appeal to the packs," Remus added, sounding almost surprised by how reasonable and logical they were being. He shouldn't be though. They really weren't that different from him, or even the average person. Not at their root.

"They're willing to listen to you, but is it enough?" Hermione asked.

So many had shown up towards the end of the Battle of Hogwarts. Many Hermione had never met, and not seen since. How many were werewolves that Remus recruited, but had stayed out of the spotlight because of their condition?

"It's too soon to tell," Remus said, sighing tiredly. "I'm still establishing myself as one of them."

"You're a natural leader. They'll recognize that before too long." The more she thought about it, the more she believed that. During the First Wizarding War, werewolves openly sided with Voldemort and did his bidding. During the Second Wizarding War, only Greyback was known to serve him. Not even his pack did - shockingly. It was very possible that Remus deserved the credit for that, but much of the information was lost with his death, and the deaths of those most in the know about his actions.

"Would you mind if we didn't talk anymore?" he asked meaningfully, sliding his hand down to squeeze her hip.

Hermione shifted to see his face, and was met with a hungry look in his eyes.

"How much longer do you have?" she breathed, mouth gone dry in the wake of his desire.

"An hour. Two at most," he murmured regretfully.

"Let's not waste it," she suggested, going up on her toes to meet him halfway for an ardent kiss.

The next couple weeks passed in much the same way. The only difference during the most recent visit, was that she and Remus didn't have any time alone after his briefing with Albus and Kingsley. Instead, they shared a few glasses of firewhiskey with Kingsley and Sirius in honor of Sirius's birthday that had happened earlier in the week. Hermione couldn't begrudge him the time with his friend, even if she would have rather spent the time in his arms.

Tonks had arrived after her shift guarding the prophecy, and with her appearance, Sirius had opened a brand new bottle of firewhiskey for the two to indulge in. They'd ended up spending half the night celebrating in the kitchen, and he was still sleeping off the lingering effects.

Hermione was beginning to get concerned with the amount Sirius was drinking. He had nothing else to occupy his time, and he was suffering from both depression and PTSD. Being locked up in this particular house didn't help the situation any either. It was just one more thing to sort out. Add it to her list.

That afternoon, while Sirius was still abed, she received another letter from Remus. He'd sent a couple during the last month, all brief because his focus was on his mission and it would be dangerous if the missive was intercepted, but a few were better than nothing. If only they could use Patronuses, but with his deeper integration with the pack, they'd decided that would be unwise.

H,

I miss you. Last night I dreamed of your smile, and regretted not enjoying your mouth yesterday.

Yours,

R

Her heart sped when she read his letter and the provocative statement, initially mistaking the innuendo for more than the absence of snogging that he was actually alluding to. There had been no opportunity to properly explore one another since they'd embarked on a relationship. Not unless they were willing to settle for a hurried coupling before he rushed off again, and neither had seemed particularly keen on that.

The flush infusing her face with an exorbitant amount of heat took several minutes to fade as she contemplated what being with Remus physically would be like. Sexual tension was steadily building each week as they passionately reunited for far too brief interludes over the last four weeks. Soon, Hermione was certain she'd say to hell with it, and beg him to make love to her. Or at least something more substantial.

"If you are done drooling over that letter, I have potions that I could use your assistance on," Severus drawled coolly.

Hermione blinked, startled by the dark man's sudden appearance as he broke into her reverie. Confused, she asked, "Potions?"

"If I wished to gaze upon an infatuated, love-struck girl, who had lost her wits over a boy, I could have stayed at the school," he replied, lips curling in disgust at the idea.

"You want help brewing potions," Hermione said slowly, not trusting that she'd properly worked out the reason for his visit. "For the school?" she added, seeking clarification.

"Did that letter wipe all common sense from your brain?" he demanded, crossing his arms disapprovingly.

"Sorry, but don't you ordinarily keep the hospital wing well stocked?"

"That toad ruined the lot 'inspecting' my work," he hissed furiously. His hair had a slight sheen of grease as he roughly tucked a strand behind his ear, though it almost immediately fell forward to conceal a large portion of his face. "As though any potion I made would ever be substandard or inferior to those sold in any apothecary shop."

Understanding finally dawned on Hermione. Umbridge was inspecting the teachers, searching for any evidence that they were more loyal to Albus than the Ministry. Probably, she'd been trying to provoke a reaction from Severus by questioning his skill or looking for examples that he was providing the school with non-Ministry sanctioned potions.

"Too bad you can't just poison her. We'd all be better off," Hermione muttered, despising the foul woman more than ever after hearing about a few of the run-ins she'd had with Remus.

"Perhaps an unfortunate accident could occur with her morning tea," Severus rejoined, lips twitching at her reaction.

"Now there's an idea with merit. But you were saying something about helping you brew potions?" Hermione prompted.

"If you're not too busy," he sneered, glancing disparagingly at the letter she still clutched.

Hermione looked pointedly around her empty surroundings. Her work for the Order was sparse, Albus concerned over her having undue influence over events given her circumstantial insight. Understandable, except it left her with little to occupy her time, and she wasn't used to being this idle.

"I'll brew as many as you can use," she volunteered, getting to her feet and tucking the letter safely in her pocket.

"Excellent. I have a list," he announced grandly, producing a foot-long sheet of parchment covered in the names of various healing potions.

Several hours later, Hermione wiped the wilted, clinging strands of her sweaty hair off her forehead. The combined fumes from the six cauldrons, each in a different stage of completion were beginning to give her a headache. How did Severus handle his classroom day in and day out with some of the truly potent ingredients some of the potions called for, and the many disastrous mistakes the students were prone to making?

"I'll be by before lunch tomorrow to collect them," he murmured, having already explained that he'd come to her for help because he had a Death Eater meeting later that night, and would need to report to Albus afterwards, leaving no time to make the various potions before they were likely to be needed unless he had help.

Currently, he was finishing labeling the Skele-Gro bottles while she continued stirring the Calming Draught. They'd gotten into a routine early on where he'd quiz her over the proper instructions and procedures of brewing a potion while they prepared the necessary ingredients, cutting, grinding, measuring and shredding. Then, while the mixture was simmering or maturing, they'd begin on the next, somehow working even more seamlessly together than they had when making the Wolfsbane Potion.

"Perfect. That should give me enough time to tackle the Dreamless Sleep as well," she replied, wiping her forehead again. With so many cauldrons simmering, it was exceedingly hot in the small potion lab.

"Whom were you mooning over - earlier?" he asked suddenly.

Hermione burst into laughter at the wording of the statement. He scowled ferociously in response to her reaction.

"You nailed it - mooning," she explained, unsuccessfully swallowing the random giggle still trying to escape. Even just thinking about Remus made her ridiculously happy.

Hermione watched as surprise slowly replaced his twisted grimace, but he refrained from commenting. She appreciated the restraint, assuming he'd have nothing pleasant to say about her choice in love interests. Not that she exactly blamed him.

Another month ticked slowly by. Snow was beginning to fall, the tiny white flakes sticking to the ground and forming a sludgy, grey mush along the edge of the sidewalk where it met the road. Winter had finally arrived in truth, bringing with it frigid temperatures and brisk winds that rattled the window panes ominously throughout the night.

Hermione wished she could go skiing. She used to go every year with her family. They'd have to drag her away from her books, but in the end, it was always worth it. Even if she'd pretended to hate it to keep Harry, who'd never had the opportunity, and Ron, who'd never had the funds, from feeling jealous. Not to mention how much the simple fact that she no longer could go, meant she wished to all the more. Besides, skiing was a way to experience the sensation of flying, but while her feet were planted firmly, safely, on the ground.

Severus had continued bringing by lists of various potions for her to brew, and she was grateful for the regular distraction and work. At least twice a week he'd stay and teach her a new one. Sometimes he'd open his mouth, ready to inquire about precisely why she'd not learned a particular potion when they both knew it was part of the seventh year curriculum, but then he'd simply shake his head and go about instructing her in the proper way to make it.

She'd just come out of the loo, having needed to wash the scent of Billywig Sting Slime from her hair when she was pinned against the wall of the hall just outside her room. The now familiar taste and overwhelming presence of Remus assailed her senses as he savaged her mouth.

His fingers spanned her rib cage, gliding up to gently mold the globes of her breasts.

"Oh," she gasped, the cry swallowed up by his mouth even as his fingers caught the budded peak of her nipple through her thin camisole. She'd not bothered putting her bra back on after her shower, and she was abruptly grateful since it meant she could fully appreciate his attentions to her body. He tweaked it, just enough to have her hips jerking, pressing forward to rub against his.

Remus crowded her further against the wall, continuing to ravish her mouth and tease her breasts. The thick length of his hardness pressed firmly into her stomach, and Hermione dragged her hands down his back, nails scratching lightly as they went before cupping and squeezing the firm roundness of his butt with each hand.

"Aghhss," he hissed, jerking away with his back bowing in a rough arch.

"What happened?" she asked, craning her head to see. A blood stain, bright as a ruby, was steadily spreading along his lower back, the brilliant red mark rapidly growing as she took in the sight of it.

Remus shook his head, but Hermione caught his hand and pulled him into her room. When he just stood there, she instructed, "Shirt off and sit."

He didn't protest, but he ducked his head and angled his body slightly away as he tugged the shirt over his head and took a seat on her bed - the only available place to sit in her room.

Hermione's mouth went dry at the sight of his chiseled physique.

Rangy would be the best way to describe Remus's overall build. Long limbs and lanky, possibly even wiry, was the general mistaken impression his loose robes gave. But underneath, the reality was that he was all solid, well-defined muscle. Each ridge bulged, threatening to burst from beneath his ivory skin.

Then there were the scars patterned across every inch of exposed flesh. Some layered two or even three deep. The long white lines were barely visible, but Hermione knew what to look for. She had enough scars of her own to spot them easily. They didn't detract from his perfection, just told a story - much as her own body did.

Quickly, Hermione retreated to the bathroom to get supplies to treat his fresh wounds as she got a grip on herself before returning to him.

This wasn't the first time Remus had overwhelmed her during one of his visits, but each time had left her flushed and dizzy, longing for more than they had time to properly indulge in. Their first few months together, they'd easily established an emotional connection. Now they were developing a physical one every bit as powerful, and each week seemed to take tortuous foreplay to the next level.

"Sorry, the moon is still riding me," he said dully, refusing to look at her as she knelt beside him, dabbing some of the cream she'd recently made with Severus along the length of the wound. She assumed the injury had been a result of the night before or he'd have already healed it himself.

Severus had surprised her with the salve recipe the week before. It was a special mixture used in the care of treating werewolf-inflicted wounds. The two primary ingredients being powdered silver and dittany. Again, he'd not said a word about her choice of partner, just provided a kindness to aid her in helping him. He was a good friend, even if he was loath to admit that that was what they were.

"You didn't hear me complaining, did you?" Hermione said easily, brushing a kiss over his exposed shoulder blade. Remus's head turned, and he smiled, though she sensed he was still a little uncertain. "And I don't have the full moon as an excuse," she added, flushing at the memory of how his hands had felt on her.

"I wish we had time to continue," he said achingly.

"Me too," she sighed.

They'd talked about their sexual histories during one of his other visits. Remus had admitted that it wasn't very extensive, having only ever been with Muggle women due to his condition, and never with the same one more than once or twice. Mostly because he'd not had an emotional connection, so therefore had not seen the point. He'd also been worried because the moon tended to have an impact on sexual appetites. Enhancing them around the moon, and urging the wolf to stake a permanent, lasting claim. These factors had made him worried about scaring a partner off.

If their sojourn in the hallway had been a preview, Hermione was completely on board for anything and everything related to Remus. His passions had easily rivaled her own.

It felt like a betrayal to admit, but sex with Ron had been boring, perfunctory. Awkward might actually describe it best, especially at first when they'd both been learning. Then, as they got into a rhythm, it was impossible to miss, but they'd had no real passion. Viktor Krum had been better. His experience playing a significant factor in that. They'd tried dating for a year after it didn't work with Ron, but in the end, they'd not had enough in common and couldn't handle the distance.

After that, every other lover she'd had was only just all right. Nothing spectacular. Hermione hadn't been able to get out of her own head enough to enjoy it and really let go. Apparently, that wasn't to be a problem with Remus. He consumed her. Totally and completely.

"How did it happen?" she asked, applying more of the medicated cream to the smaller wounds higher on his back.

"I moved up in rank last night," Remus said without inflection. She understood what he really meant. He'd won any number of fights. His rank increased with each victory, along with his influence.

"How many are in the pack?" she asked, realizing she'd not thought to ask before now.

"Twenty-six. This is the largest in Britain by a wide margin, but also the most tame," he acknowledged, looking at the clean, white strip of bandage Hermione was wrapping securely around his middle, and amended, "relatively speaking."

"How many packs are there in Britain?" Hermione asked, thinking she already knew the answer, but wanting to keep him talking. Severus had warned that the salve would hurt for the first few minutes as the silver entered his bloodstream.

"Five," Remus gasped, pain lancing the word.

"So many?" Hermione gasped, truly unsettled to have her research and knowledge be so woefully inaccurate.

"There were only two when I was a child. Greyback is responsible for the increased numbers," Remus gritted out, accepting her hands when she took his in her own much smaller ones, and squeezing helplessly.

"I only knew of two when I was working with the Ministry. But now I think the others were still there, only hidden. It would have been nice to be able to help them," Hermione admitted, silently offering him all of her strength. The pain should only last a minute or two at most. Afterwards, the wounds would be significantly healed and far less prone to scarring.

"You still can. The future hasn't happened yet," Remus reminded her, bending to place a tender kiss just beneath her ear.

He pulled her into his lap, the pain seeming to have subsided right on cue, and he nuzzled her neck. The action reminded her of wolves scent marking, but she was probably attributing the qualities because she was actively seeking the associations. Plus, it was nice to see him relaxing more around her. It had been steadily happening more and more each week.

"I have a house," Remus announced suddenly, their time together waning quickly.

"Remus?"

"If at any point you would like to move there. It would give you more freedom," he explained, keeping his mouth against her neck as he spoke to avoid looking at her.

"We can't leave Sirius here alone," she murmured, her heart pounding faster as she understood the significance of his offer. "But one day." Maybe even one day soon.

"Thank you for caring about him," he said thickly.

"He's family," Hermione said, tipping his chin up to capture his lips in a kiss that said more than words could ever hope to convey.